


Wherever is Your Heart I call Home

by gypsiangel



Series: Finding Home [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: All-in-all a fluff piece with serious themes of overcoming bunches of shit, BAMF Newt Scamander, Bullying, De-aged Credence, Dealing with PTSD, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Genderbent Newt, M/M, More drama and angst, Protective Original Percival Graves, Protective Theseus Scamander, Sorry Not Sorry, Still fluff but added Grindlewald's escape, This is what happens when you watch the movie and get ideas, implied/referenced underage non-con, more tags to be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsiangel/pseuds/gypsiangel
Summary: He read the simple message three times before it sank in, and he broke out into a grin. ‘Will you do us the honor of being the godfather to our newest addition? Date of arrival- late May. We couldn’t think of anyone more deserving or trusted.’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I'm back with a continuation of Color of Boom! :D It just took me forever because I upended my world again, for the better this time. The process of building and moving into a tiny home took up all of my energy and time, so I pretty much put everything into a holding pattern. But now it looks like I'm settled enough to be able to work on some of my writing. Hope everyone likes this continuation as much as you liked Color of Boom. Please feel free to drop me a line to tell me how you like it. Feedback is always welcome.

*~*~*   
      “Thee! Thee!” Theseus heard the excited shout and turned away from the set of aurors he’d been debriefing in the bullpen outside of his office just in time to catch the little boy flying toward him. Shattering his stern, no-nonsense persona by breaking into a wide grin, he tossed the child lightly up into the air, making him squeal happily.

      “Hello there, little man! What’re you doing here? Where’s your mum? Surely she didn’t just let you loose on the building?” Looking over Cree’s head, his eyes scanned the hallways for his sister or his brother-in-law, frowning when he didn’t see either of them.

       “Mama missed the box,” Cree explained, “Pickett was h’ving a tantrum ‘n she didn’t see the gb’lin and run into him.”

       “And you didn’t wait for her?”

       Cree looked sheepish, his cheeks going a little pink as his fingers played with the buttons at Theseus’s throat, carefully not meeting his uncle’s gaze. “I wanted to see you. And there was shouting.”

       “Enough said, poppet,” Theseus gentled his tone and pressed a kiss to Cree’s temple before turning back toward his men, who were looking at him as if he’d been replaced with someone else. “Off with you lot. Ryan, I expect to have that report by the end of the day, and for Merlin’s sake, Addison, close your mouth before you catch flies. It’s like you’ve never seen a kid before.”

       Turning his attention back to Cree, he said conspiratorially, “I’ve got some sugar biscuits in my office, the ones with ginger and chocolate you like so much. You want some?”

       Artemis tried to keep their sugar intake to a minimum, so any kind of sweet treats were treated like gold, and the little boy’s face lit up. The mention of the biscuits did the trick and made Cree relax back into his usual happy chatter. For the most part, his former life was nothing but a foggy record in a box somewhere, but the little one still had moments where it reared up. He hated raised voices and would get very quiet and still if there was any sort of heat behind it. Art had confided that he still had some nasty nightmares and couldn’t sleep in the dark. Any kind of extreme temperature would put him off, resulting in a sullen, almost frightened disposition, as if he were waiting for someone to get angry and strike out. Cold was the worst of it, and his parents were careful to keep him wrapped in warming charms through the dreary winter months.

       He was slurping up a cup of hot chocolate and sorting through crumbs, all the while talking Theseus’s ear off about their upcoming ‘Sc’lnd’ trip, when a red-faced and harried Artemis hurried through his door.

       “Lord and Lady, what a nightmare. One would think that the goblins would be a bit more forgiving! I apologized, and tried to set things right, but you’d have thought I tried to murder him with the way he was carrying on.” She noticed the chocolate and biscuits, and Theseus saw the momentary cringe flash through her eyes before it dissipated just as quickly as it came. No doubt she was thinking of the sugar rush followed by the inevitable grumpy crash. He felt no shame, whatsoever. It was an uncle’s prerogative to sugar them up before handing them back.

       “I see you found your uncle well enough without me,” Artemis grinned at her son, reaching out to stroke his hair lightly. She and Percival were letting him explore his boundaries without them hanging over his shoulder at all times. It was difficult sometimes, being that there were very real dangers and they both had seen more than their share of awfulness. It varied from situation to situation, like here at MOM, Art had seen him dart into the elevator with the operator and at least two of Theseus’s aurors, so she knew it would stop at her brother’s floor. Cree was a very sharp child with instincts that were almost too developed for a boy his age. It broke her heart a little that it mostly had to do with his former existence. Some things would probably never change, and while it relieved her to know that he had more defensive skills up his sleeve than a normal little one, it was still sad to think of where he’d carried it from.

      “Thee gave me biscuits,” Cree pointed out gleefully, then held out the last half of the remaining biscuit for her to take. Her heart melting at his generosity, she took it with a bright smile, though the edges were a bit mangled.

       “Thank you, darling,” she said and delicately popped it in her mouth. That, right there was a huge indication that motherhood had changed his sister in a significant way. Theseus had never seen her take half-eaten food from anyone. She’d done some strange things to get her creatures to eat, but when it came to other humans, she wasn’t as keen. It had been funny when they were kids and anyone had offered her a bite of something, her nose had scrunched up just so and she’d politely turned it down, no matter what it was. He had a feeling that if he were to do the same exact thing, she’d look at him like he was mad. This was only for Cree, to make him more comfortable and not turn her nose up at anything the little boy offered. Affection swelled his chest and Theseus cleared his throat against the lump.

       “So, what do I owe this unannounced visit,” he asked, “Not that I mind seeing two of my favorite people, but you don’t normally just pop in.”

       “We came to take you to tea.” Artemis carefully avoided his eyes, her cheeks going suspiciously pink. “We’ve got some news.”

       Eyes narrowing, Theseus looked between her and Cree, who was eyeing the biscuit tin with hopeful eyes and kicking feet. “All right,” he said warily, “I’ve always got time for tea. Where’s Percy?”

        “He’s… he’ll be meeting up with us later for dinner.” That wasn’t suspicious, at all. But she wasn’t in tears, and Cree wasn’t acting off, so he’d hold off on thinking murder on his brother-in-law. “I thought we could go to McCleary’s. I haven’t had their pie in a very long time, and I promised Cree a taste of their ice cream.”  
 Cree beamed up at him, “Mama said they have chocolate dragons!”

        Theseus laughed and shook his head, “I’d forgotten about those blasted things. Didn’t they nearly ban them after the charm nearly charred the place to ruin?”  
 Artemis shook her head, “Allie fixed it so that they don’t actually breathe fire. It’s just lights and smoke now.”

        “Well, let me clear my books really quick and we can make an afternoon of it, yeah? It’s not every day you lot come around.”  
 Artemis took the chance to clean up the chocolate mess on her son’s face while Theseus spoke with his secretary, who was eyeing them with a curious glare once her boss turned back around to swing Cree up onto his shoulders. It was strange, but Artemis didn’t pay it any mind as she followed behind, making sure Pickett wasn’t poking his head out of her pocket again. That’s how the earlier trouble started in the first place, and she’d rather not have a repeat performance.

        By the time they’d gotten to the pub, Theseus was a little worried about exactly what kind of ‘news’ his sister was going to impart. Visions of dangerous expeditions and instructions on how to care for Cree if she and Percival were to get eaten by some exotic beast no one had ever heard of, ran through his mind. He was lining up every argument he could think of in a short amount of time, as well as a head of steam about his brother-in-law and broken promises to keep Art out of life-threatening situations.

        When they’d taken their seats, placed orders, and got Cree settled in with a coloring paper and muggle crayons, Artemis slid a parchment across the table toward him. She nervously tucked a loose curl behind her ear and smiled at the girl that brought their tea. He read the simple message three times before it sank in, and he broke out into a grin. _‘Will you do us the honor of being the godfather to our newest addition? Date of arrival- late May. We couldn’t think of anyone more deserving or trusted.’_

        Surging to his feet, he rounded the table and pulled Artemis out of her chair so he could gather her up and swing her around, laughing in relief. “I thought you were going to tell me you were off to Peru, hunting something with nasty teeth and flesh-melting venom!”

         “What?” Artemis burst into laughter, swatting at his chest when he finally let her down. “No! Well, not for a while yet. The dangerous adventuring will have to wait.”

        “Your definition of dangerous differs greatly from mine, sister. But yes, I’d love to be the godfather to the newest hatchling.”

        Cheeks pink with pleasure, Artemis couldn’t contain her grin when Cree joined in the hug, wrapping his arms around one of Theseus’s legs, and one of hers, his face beaming up at them. Theseus scooped him up and swirled him around quickly, before asking, “What do you think of all this, Cree? A new brother or sister is a lot of responsibility. Are you ready for it?”

        Cree nodded his head vigorously, his eyes wide and earnest. “I am, Thee, I am! Papa says I’m gonna be the best.”

        “Just like your uncle, then,” Artemis commented softly, and Theseus couldn’t help the rush of pride that swelled his chest. He looked at her for a moment with suspiciously shiny eyes, then drew her in with one arm to crush the two of them together in another hard embrace. Cree squealed in delight and wrapped his arm around his mum.

        “You do know that I’m going to give your husband a hard time, yeah?”

 

*~*~*

  
        Back at his office, he saw his sister off to Diagon Alley to meet her husband and find their lodgings with a kiss to her forehead and a hair ruffle for Cree. They were going to meet up again later that evening for dinner, and he was looking forward to giving Percy a hard time before taking the other man out for a few drinks to celebrate. Artemis was fine with it, as long as there were no fights or dueling. She just said that if they got in trouble, they could sort it out themselves, because she wasn’t being drug up out of bed at Merlin knows when to bail them out.

 

         His secretary was giving him an odd look as he paused to take any messages, but he shrugged it off and went about his business. But when Tina arrived to knock on his door a while later, he was bewildered when she smirked at him and asked about the ‘mysterious woman’ that had come to take him for tea. She’d been out on an assignment when Artemis had come through, otherwise she would have been invited along; as it was, she wasn’t even aware that her friends were in town as yet.

 

         “What are you on about,” Theseus demanded, reaching out for the steaming mug Tina was holding out to him.

        

          “Everyone’s all in a titter about this woman and little boy that made the boss act all human,” Tina teased, the humor in her dark eyes telling him that she knew exactly who it was and hadn’t done a bloody thing to sort out her fellow aurors. It was their own damn fault for not paying attention. “This incredibly tall, awkward, but gorgeous woman that their boss ushered away before they could get any sort of information about.”

 

          Theseus rolled his eyes. “I really need a new bunch of aurors. Maybe a training seminar on observational skills is in order, yeah?”

 

          “So, what is Art and company up to now? Are they staying in London for any length of time?” Tina took a seat in the chair across from Theseus’s desk and nursed her own cup. The American auror had thrived here at MOM, taking a place among his people with a new attitude and pride in herself and her skills. It really helped that she hadn’t had to work too hard to prove herself, being actively recruited by someone she admired and thought of as a friend. London had been good for her and her sister, Queenie going all in to work with her new husband on the bakery.  
 

           Jacob had been in utter awe over the magical community here, where he wasn’t necessarily unwelcome. He wasn’t completely welcome either, but with his bubbly personality and overall good-guy energy, the locals were coming around. It helped that they were in the process of expanding and opening yet another bakery, this one in the heart of Diagon Alley, where the first was in London proper. The permits for that had been a bloody nightmare to procure, but Theseus was annoyingly persistent, and Jacob’s creations had spoken for him in the end.

        

          The minister had been swayed by the niffler pasty when it was all said and done, and with a promise of unlimited access to the menu whenever he felt like it, the older man was finally sold. It was the kind of tongue-in-cheek harmless bribery Theseus was okay with.  
 

         “So, when is Roman coming back into town,” Tina asked after a few moments of talking about Artemis, Percival, and their stay in London. “Speaking of love interests.”  
 

         “He’s coming in tomorrow or the next day,” Theseus answered, completely unaware of the dopey smile that crossed his face at the mention of the Romanian man he’d met at his sister’s wedding. They had hit it off in a spectacular way and had exchanged letters after spending nearly a week together. He’d found out that Roman was a dragon handler at the reserve in Romania, which didn’t surprise him in the least, knowing Artemis. Of course, she’d be close with someone who worked with the bloody things. The dark-haired man was just as mad as she was, only on a more localized level.  
 

         “Oh, sir, you are in so much trouble, aren’t you?” Tina looked a little too gleeful as she grinned and got to her feet.  
 

         “What?”  
 

         “Tell Roman I said hi, and hopefully we can all get together while everyone’s here, okay?”  
 

          “Sure, fine. What do you mean, I’m in trouble?” Theseus called out to her, but she waved at him and laughed as she went out the door. “Goldstein!”

 

 

 

*~*~*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you guys! <3 This chapter deals with bullying and PTSD on a few different levels, plus it mentions underage assault. Big time hurt/comfort, folks, aaaaannnnd sexing toward the end of the chapter. ;)

 

 

*~*~*

 

       “Percival Graves, I’m warning you.” The pure exasperation in his sister’s voice made Theseus grin as he apparated in near the place they’d decided to gather for their evening meal. “I’m perfectly capable-.”

        “I know you are,” Percival, as cool and unruffled as always, was pressing his hand to the small of Art’s back. They were alone, Cree nowhere to be seen. He watched as his brother in law smoothly cupped Artemis’s chin and brought her mouth up to meet his. The tension slowly leaked out of her willowy frame and she melted into her husband, momentarily forgetting her ire. “You’ve got to forgive me, sweetheart. This is all new to me, and I’m going to be a bit on the overprotective side.”

         She sighed and rested her forehead against his. Theseus simultaneously wanted to roll his eyes and grin like a madman. They were just too bloody soppy.

“I’m no more breakable now than I was three months ago, Percy. Madame Flora said I’m fine to apparate alone until the fifth month. She gave me a list of what’s appropriate, and I’ve been following the ridiculous thing.”

         “And you’ve been doing really well at it, too,” Percy assured her, drawing her in a bit closer. “I know it’s hard, but…”

         “But you two are sickeningly sweet,” Theseus interrupted, making his presence known before his friend could dig himself back into a hole. “I really don’t want to ruin my appetite. Where’s the little man?”    

     “Queenie absconded with him,” Artemis answered, her smile just a little wobbly. Pregnancy hormones were playing merry hell with her emotions, and every little thing seemed to set her off. It was just as annoying as the ridiculous restrictions. “She and Jacob wanted to keep him for the night to give us a bit of adult time.” 

          “And have a chance to spoil him rotten, I’m sure,” Percival was grinning as he reached out a hand toward Theseus in greeting. His eyebrows lowered in confusion when Theseus glowered at him and refused to shake his hand. The redhead crossed his arms and planted his feet, looking murderous. 

         “I should hex the shite out of you, you bastard.”

         “What? Thes-,” the worried confusion in his voice was enough to make Theseus crack and he cackled at the look on the other man’s face. “You ass.” 

        “I’m sorry,” Theseus managed through his laughter, doubling over when Percy got that, ‘I am so unbearably unamused’ pinched look to his face. He softened when Artemis let out a delicate snort of amusement and seemed to forget her pique of just a moment ago. “I couldn’t resist. Congratulations, my friend. I can’t wait to meet the little bean and spoil them just as rotten as Cree.” This time, he came forward and tugged Percival into a hearty embrace, thumping him on the back. 

         Spirits elevated again, the trio walked the block down to the pub they’d chosen for dinner.

        All was going well, Artemis animatedly speaking of the kelpies she was hoping to contact while they were in Scotland, and Theseus communicating non-verbally with Percival on the ‘ _you’d better not let my sister get drowned by water nasties,'_ level. The retired director had just sent him a look that clearly said, _‘you try to stop her, you ass'_ , when someone bumped into Artemis’s chair hard enough to jostle her and make her lose track of what she was saying.  

        “Still yammering on about things no one wants to hear, Scamander? One would think you'd’ve outgrown that by now,” the voice was rough and unfamiliar, but Artemis immediately clamped her mouth closed, staring at the table in front of her, high color coming to her cheeks. The voice may have been lost through the years, but the words weren’t. It was the same tune in a different setting. “No one’s beaten it out of you yet?” 

        “I suggest you turn and leave.” Percival’s voice was cold as ice, and Artemis looked at him, almost surprised at the fury etched into his features. His wand was out and aimed at the man behind her, and a glance at Theseus told her he was mirroring Percival, though his face was reddening in that way that told of imminent explosion.        

        “What, you’ve no words for yourself?” The man jostled her chair again, either drunk out of his mind, or just blind to the dangerous line he was about to go over. “You had plenty to say just a moment ago.”

        “Please do as my husband requested and leave,” Artemis’s voice was low and, to her horror, shaky with tears. She could feel her face burning with humiliation and her stomach was roiling with nausea. She’d thought this kind of bullying was over; it had been so long since anyone had been so openly cruel that she’d nearly forgotten where she stood in their community. Percival, Jacob, and the Goldstein sisters had come a long way in healing the emotional scars left behind by the severe bullying she’d endured. It hadn’t ended at childhood, instead stretching out long after her school days. It had just gone from open cruelty to quieter methods to keep her where they wanted her. Head down, mouth shut, and invisible. 

        “Husband,” the voice had raised now, incredulous and booming, drawing the attention of the crowded establishment. “Your family finally found someone dull enough to want you as a wife? Mine dodged the bludger with that one. I wonder how much your father had to pay the poor sod? Tell me, was it worth it?”       

         Suddenly, she knew who he was. Damien Malfoy. The picture of a sneering boy with hard hands that had cornered her in the back greenhouse after herbology came directly to her mind’s eye. Pinned against the cold brick, her thin body no match for him as he overpowered her, mouth bruising and fingers biting into sensitive areas. He’d snarled dirty things into her ear, promises of what would happen once they were married. A group of their classmates had rounded the corner, talking loudly and interrupting him before it could escalate any further.                                                          

        She had been thirteen, battered, bruised, and terrified to say anything. Artemis had been determined that he would never lay his hands on her again. Taking measures from then out to always have her wand accessible and her eyes open whenever she was separate from her peers, it had made the remaining time at Hogwarts even harder to endure. When it came time for the official engagement, Artemis had very publicly gone against her parents, despite the backlash and refused to go forward with it. Her father’s wrath had been worth it not to be alone with the Malfoy heir. It had taken years to form the plan, and even though she’d paid the price five times over, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she imagined being married to the brute would have been. 

        There was a blur of movement from her right and her chair was jerked out from under her as Malfoy was knocked off his feet, his hand automatically gripping the wooden back as he flew. Percival was pale faced and tight lipped as he, very gently and carefully, helped her back to her feet. He raised her face with his fingertips and dark eyes searched hers, pupils dilating at whatever he saw there.         

         “Bloody bastard,” Malfoy snarled, hauling himself to his feet, and Artemis got a look at him for the first time. He’d grown into a tall, leanly muscled man, the trademark white hair falling around his shoulders. His mouth was bleeding and he spat crimson, wiping the back of a pale hand across his chin. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.” 

         “I’m giving you one more chance to walk away,” Percival growled, turning to shield Artemis with his body. “Leave. Now.” 

         Artemis jerked when she felt her brother come up behind her, his hands going to her upper arms in support. Everything in her was shaking, the tremors nearly making her teeth chatter. Tears were burning her eyelids, and she didn’t think she could be more upset even if she tried. Everyone in the pub was looking at them; she could feel their eyes on her, judging and silently agreeing with the well-to-do man that she wasn’t worth all this fuss. 

         “Why the fuck should I leave? Are you sure you want to get arrested for assault over a nobody whore like her?” 

         “Assault?” Artemis jolted again when Theseus boomed over her head, her already taut body going rigid at the loudness of it. “Assault? What I see is escalated harassment, Malfoy. Or have you forgotten my position in MOM? You have a set of brass balls if you think I would stand by and allow you to upset my sister. I don’t care who you are, or who your parents are. Look around you, boy. Do you see anyone who would corroborate your story?” 

         Artemis had her eyes firmly on Percival’s back, or else she might have seen the closed off, angry faces of the other patrons. Malfoy did, however, and sneered, though he was backing away. “My father will hear of this.” He pointed at Percival, “You mark my words, I’ll have your head for this. That lunatic isn’t worth losing everything for. You’ll see.” 

         When he was gone, there were a few long moments of utter silence before things started going back to normal. Artemis shrank away from her brother, reaching for her coat with violently trembling hands. Percival tried to touch her, and she evaded neatly, jerkily shoving her arms into the folds before going toward the door. When she hesitated, and triggered her wand into her hand, the men exchanged glances before following her closely. Apparently, this wasn’t a new situation for her.

         Again, communicating silently through years of practice, Theseus went to do damage control while Percival followed Artemis. Catching up with her in a few long strides, Percy spun her around and into his arms before apparating them both back to their hotel. 

         When they reappeared, Artemis broke away and rushed into the bathroom, shedding her coat and leaving it on the floor as she went. Slamming the door behind her, she fell to her knees in front of the commode and vomited. When there was nothing left, she rested her head against her arms and sobbed, feeling hollow and defeated. She hated that people like Malfoy still had this kind of power over her; that men like him still knew exactly the words to say and the buttons to push. She hated that Percival had been drug into this, and that he’d seen exactly what people thought of her. It tainted her happiness and reminded her that she was still an outcast, no matter how much time and distance she’d put between them. 

        When Percival guided her back and to her feet, she didn’t have the energy to fight him, though the urge was strong. She didn’t want him to see her like this. He tenderly took a cool cloth to her face and neck, making soothing sounds when she would have spoken up in protest. She was still trembling when she took his wrists and just held them in place as they cupped the back and sides of her neck. Eyes closed, she tried to hold back a painful sob. 

         “I- I’m sorry,” she said in a small, strangled voice that nearly killed him. “I don… don’t want you to see me like this.” 

         “Honey, I’m not going anywhere, so don’t even think it.” 

          She hiccupped and fresh tears fell. “Percy, I’m-.”

         “You’re everything I have ever wanted, Artemis. You are intelligent, funny, compassionate, and utterly fascinating. There’s not a boring moment shared with you. You are a gorgeous woman with a body and mind that I look forward to spending the rest of my life worshipping. I can’t wait to see you full and ripe with my babies; this one and the ones we’ll make after them.”

         She leaned forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder, sucking in a hard breath. Words escaped her at the influx of love she felt for and from this man. Unable to communicate, she merely let herself be drawn in and be taken care of. Percival undressed her with the utmost care, slipping her favorite soft silk nightgown over her head and tucking her into the bed before tending to his own clothing and sliding in next to her.

         When he curled up around her, she turned and wrapped her arms around him, letting his limbs tangle with hers as her head rested in the hollow of his throat. Exhausted, the tears continued to fall as she fell asleep.

          Percival held her tight long after she drifted off, low simmering anger making it impossible to follow her just yet. He didn’t know the man that had acted so deplorably toward his wife, but he’d find out. 

*~*~*

  _“You’d better get used to this, freak,” Malfoy snarled into her ear, his fingers wrapped in her hair as he pinned her head against the brick of the greenhouse. One of his legs was between hers, his hips pressed against her lower belly where she could feel how hard he was. Face burning with humiliation and anger, she struggled against him, managing to get a hand between them to push at his chest. She hadn’t gone through her last growth spurt yet, so she was still a short, scrawny thing._

_She made a small, wounded sound when he shoved her back and wrapped his other hand around her neck, squeezing just enough to let her know he was in control. He used his body to keep her pinned. His mouth was hard and cruel as he kissed her, taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting down enough to draw blood. When she renewed her struggles, he tightened his grip and cut off her air. “It’s never too early to start training. By the time I have you in the marriage bed, I’ll have you begging for this.”_

         She woke up gasping for air and fighting to free herself from Percival and the bedclothes. Her husband came awake immediately and let her go, helping her get free after quickly figuring out that she was coming out of a nightmare. While she was trying to gather her bearings, he eased himself out of the bed and went to fetch a glass of cool water, pressing it into her hands when she swung her legs over the side of the mattress, her head bowed as she tried to tame her pounding heart. They’d figured out that neither one of them was okay with excessive touching after a nightmare, and unless it was actively sought out, they knew to wait. 

          “You’re all right,” Percival murmured to her tenderly when she raised her head and looked at him finally. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes, and beyond that was a horrified shame that he hated to see. “You’re safe, sugar. Safe and sound, and I won’t let anyone through to you. Cree is with Queenie and Jacob, and your case is over there in the wardrobe, locked up tight.”

         She set the glass aside and reached for him with a small, hurting sound that broke his heart. He rejoined her in the bed when she tugged him in, wrapping himself around her in a protective move that made her start sobbing. Making nonsense, soothing sounds, Percival held her tight and inwardly raged at the people that had hurt her so badly. He remembered the man’s face clearly, and he wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon. Malfoy. Finally piecing it together, his jaw clenched at the implications.

          “I’m with you because I love you,” he murmured into the top of her head. “I’m here because I can’t bear the thought of not having you with me always. That son of a bitch is a nasty piece of work, bitter and entitled. He couldn’t have you, so he has to throw a tantrum to save face. He won’t get by with it, Artemis.” 

          She shook her head, and drug in an unsteady breath. “He wouldn’t care to have me, Percy,” she said, voice so low that he could barely hear it. “It’s the fact that I bested him that’s sticking. I bested him by not allowing him to… to finish whatever sick game he started when we were young. I avoided his clutches in every way I could, at school, at home, and especially in marriage.” 

         “Tell me?” 

         Artemis burrowed in even deeper, the images of her nightmare memory still too fresh. He deserved to know, and she deserved to speak it out loud after so many years burying it in the back of her mind. There had always been more important things to focus on. After the fact, after Hogwarts, and after she’d finally faced down the beast that was her parents’ expectations, it hadn’t seemed as important. Now… now she couldn’t not face it. 

         “Third year Damien cornered me behind the greenhouses after herbology. I was doing an extra credit task for our professor and he followed me. My father had just negotiated a marriage contract with his, a promise for after I graduated from Hogwarts. I’d gotten the owl just three days prior, all of it a shock, as my parents had never taken my opinion into consideration on anything else. Why would they start with this? I hadn’t even spoken to the younger Malfoy, him being two years my senior and in Slytherin. He hadn’t even deigned to harass me like the rest of his house. He had better things to do.” 

         She stopped, realizing she was rambling a bit bitterly, trying to avoid getting to the point. Fingers digging into Percival’s shoulders as she held even tighter, she continued. “He had me pinned to the brick before I really knew what happened. He was much larger than I was, as I hadn’t hit my growth yet.”

         “Let it out,” Percival spoke so gently, fresh tears leaked through the tight seal of her eyelids. “I’ve got you.” 

          “I didn’t tell anyone about it,” she said, skipping over the details, knowing that he could read between the lines. “Some classmates came around the corner and interrupted him before he could… before he could touch me more… intimately. I- I didn’t think anyone would really believe me; he only left bruises and a blinding terror of being alone outside my house dorms. Before he let me go, he said that if I told anyone that it would be my word against his, and a Malfoy trumped a twitchy little rabbit any day. Leta… Leta was off after I told her of the contract, so I never told her of our encounter.” 

         Percival cradled the back of her head, the large palm of his hand keeping her firm to him. “No one will ever, ever lay hands on you like that again,” he promised darkly, and she could feel the angry tension in the way he held her. There would have been a time where she may have misconstrued his anger and internalized it as being toward her, but this was Percy. She knew him now, and she knew his love for her, though there were times where she didn’t quite believe it. The life she had built up was beautiful and stable. Things weren’t the same as they had been when she was young. She wasn’t the same as she had been. No longer a scrawny little girl with no voice and no one to protect her, it was all very much different.

         “I don’t believe I will ever understand how you love me,” she said, her voice watery and thick. “But I don’t need to understand, do I? It just is.”

         “I could list all the reasons.” Percival didn’t sound all that steady, himself. “Alphabetically, if you gave me an hour or two.” 

          She laughed suddenly, a surprising sound that shocked them both. It was a wild and nearly hysterical laughter, the kind that is obviously a catharsis, clearing out and healing. She pulled back to look into his face, and he smiled down at her, marveling at how damn lucky he was to have her. 

         “I love you, Artemis Newton Graves, and nothing will ever change that.” Her eyes shone with more tears, but when her fingers slid up the back of his neck and curled into his hair, she took his mouth in a hot, open press that put his blood to a steady simmer. 

         “Make me forget him,” she murmured and moved her leg between his, pressing up against his hardening length. “Please, Percy, I need to forget his hands were ever on me.”

          Though his temper flared hot at the thought of another man touching her, hurting her, Percival did as she asked. He moved down her body gently, tenderly worshipping every inch he could reach, caressing her breasts and rounding belly through the material of her nightgown. He lifted the fabric and pressed open-mouthed kisses along the gentle, barely there swell of where his child rested, an emotion he couldn’t rightly name overcoming him at the miracle of it all. That Artemis was there with him, that she had chosen to let him in, to let him touch and hold her where so many others had hurt and belittled.  Lifting her nightshirt over her head, he ran his hands over the softness of her skin and pinned her arms above her head. He kissed her mouth, a thorough move that made her whine with need as he settled his hips between her legs. 

          The rhythm he started was sweet and slow, rocking into her with a reverence that bordered on worship. She whimpered low at the back of her throat and dug her heels into the bedding, meeting him half way, straining against the hold he had on her wrists.        

          "Gods, Percy, please, don't be gentle. Please, please, I need to feel you," she nearly sobbed, "I need it to be you, and only you." 

           Her hands immediately went to his shoulders when he let go to palm the curve of her backside, raising her up as he increased the pace and power of his thrusts. She bit at her lip, wrapping legs around his waist, then shouting out as he suckled at her neck. He sucked the skin into his mouth hard, and the pleasure-pain of it sent shockwaves up and down her spine. It was enough to send her spiraling out of control, clamping down on him with a wild keen. Without allowing her to come down, he pulled back and spun her around, moving them both further down on the bed. 

         "That's it, sugar," he growled, slamming back home, watching her drop her spine and claw at the bedsheets. "Gods, I love you. I love you." 

          She gloried in the feel of him across her back, and shouted her pleasure when his arm slid under her torso and brought them flush, his face buried in her hair. The way he claimed her was exactly what she needed, and she reached up to curl her fingers into his hair, holding him tight as they reached their peak.

         Afterward, bodies almost too warm and lax, he pulled her close and whispered more loving reassurances into her skin. Tears soaked into the expanse of his chest as she allowed him to lull her back to sleep. 

*~*~*

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry this has taken me so long to get back to! I was a bit blocked on how to proceed then I got hijacked by life for a while. But I'm back to updating some of my fics, and you've been so beautiful in reminding me of how much you enjoy this one, and I enjoy writing on it. <3 The second half is total, unashamed fluff.

*~*~*

 

          Percival stood next to Theseus and overlooked the crowded barroom, searching for the telltale white blonde hair and sneering face that indicated a Malfoy. According to the intel they'd acquired, the younger Malfoy was usually making his rounds of the high-class wizarding taverns at the same time every night. Being Tuesday, it was dueling night at The Lion's Mage in Hogsmeade, one of the shadier establishments that had a few underground dealings that no one talked about. The perfect opportunity.

          Artemis was with Tina and Queenie, the two women closing ranks around their friend for a much-needed girl's night in the case, while Jacob took Cree for a 'boys only' campout in the back garden of his and Queenie's cottage home. The little boy was ecstatic to be spending time with his Uncle Jacob, and the promise of homemade marshmallows and a campfire was just icing on the cake. It left Percival and Theseus to their own devices, and a perfect opportunity.

          Queenie eyeballed them on their way out the door, but didn't say anything, just nodded with an approving smirk and a, "You boys don't do anythin' too crazy." Tina had wanted to go with them, but if they wanted to keep from upsetting Art any further, they needed her to help with the cover story, and to distract their hyper-vigilant magizoologist.

          Ever since their encounter in the pub, Art had retreated into the heartbreaking jumpy shell that spoke volumes about how the entire incident affected her. She wouldn't actually come out and say it, but the almost shy way she interacted with everyone told the story. They'd closed ranks, though, and with time they'd bring her back out of it.

          Theseus was sitting at the bar, a glass of dark ale resting in one hand as keen eyes watched the mirror behind the barkeep. Percival had taken the seat next to him but was sitting with his back against the mahogany edge, his own tumbler of firewhiskey held casually against his sternum. There was a deceptive ease to their positions, though it gave the maximum surveillance opportunity. They sat in silence, not even bothering to pretend with idle chatter with each other or anyone else. Not that anyone approached them; there was an edge of danger surrounding the two men, despite the forced casualness.

          They’d signed up for the dueling when they’d first arrived, putting their names down under a list of about six names. Since then, four more people came in and added theirs, paying the cash toward the winner’s pot. Whoever made it through the elimination rounds got the pot of galleons and was put down as reigning champion for future dueling nights.

          A mere five minutes before the start of the dueling, Malfoy showed up in a flurry of expensive robes and an entourage of four friends, who also added their names to the list. He then sauntered to a reserved table near the edge of the dueling space, which had been set up in the back rooms. Percival and Theseus had gotten their own table a little more in the corner, but with an unobstructed view of the floor. They stayed out of sight until it was their turn to duel.

          Two rounds went by before it was Percival’s turn and he wiped the floor with the young buck trying to make a name for himself outside of school. It was over in three moves, humiliating for the youngster, but Percival wasn’t in the mood to play. He made eye contact with Malfoy as he left the floor, onyx eyes cold with anger. The other man smirked and raised his glass in a mock salute.

          Theseus made it through his round with a bit more of a flare, taking out his opponent with a flashy bit of wandwork that left the other wizard laughing good-naturedly as they shook hands and departed the floor. Theseus didn’t even acknowledge their quarry as he passed, though he glared fire at the back of the blonde head during the rest of the initial matches.

          The opponents came and went, more challenging as they passed. Percival went through them brutally, not holding anything back as his rage built with each locking of eyes with the man that had made his wife’s childhood even more of a nightmare. At one point, Theseus shoved a fresh shot of firewhiskey into his hand and ordered him to drink it before he set the place ablaze.

          “You’re about to turn him to stone with those basilisk eyes, mate,” the redhead stated baldly. “That just won’t do. Humiliation has to come first, then petrification. We talked about this.”

          Percival gave him a look but tossed back the shot, pursing his lips a little at the burn. Smoke wisped out of his mouth when he growled, “I’m going to have his head for my mantle by the time this is all over with.”

          Theseus’s booming laugh caused people to turn and look at them and he clapped his brother-in-law on the shoulder. “You look like the muggle version of a dragon, Percy! You should see yourself, all dark and glowering, talking vengeance with smoke coming out your mouth!”

          Percival rolled his eyes but relaxed a little at his friend’s amusement. He snorted when Theseus added, “Besides, Art wouldn’t really care for that ugly, pasty face staring at her from the mantle every morning.”

          “We can always pickle it and set it in the cellar.” There was a quirk of his lips, and Theseus belted out another loud guffaw.

          “There’s your thinking kicking in. Ah! Now’s my turn. No fires before we’re done, yeah? I kinda like this pub, reminds me of my misspent youth.”

          Percival watched Theseus blast the middle-aged magistrate off his feet after about ten minutes of back and forth hexes. The other man was having fun, going about this with his usual mischievous delight that disguised the mission-oriented personality underneath. It was only partly an act, and Percy knew that it was only a matter of time before his friend’s entire demeanor would change and the game would really be on. They played well off each other, just like they had back in the war. This time the stakes were a lot more personal.

          A couple more rounds went by, and it was Percival’s turn to take on one of Malfoy’s goons. He felt a thrill of exhilaration when the man proved a bit more capable than the others he’d come up against so far. He still smashed him, but it was more of a fight. When they carried the other man off the floor, Percival was actually smiling. If Art wasn’t carrying his child, he would have loved to have his wife out here with him. It would have done her some good to wipe the floor with these bastards. There was a therapy in handing your enemies their comeuppance. People had been underestimating Artemis all her life, dismissing her and brushing her off as insignificant. The thought of the smug faces falling as they came up against Art was a warming one, and it lightened his mood enough that he started enjoying himself a bit more.

          Percival watched Malfoy wreck his opponents, moving through the competition easily. He catalogued the other man’s moves, calculating weaknesses with the eye of a man that had been the Director of Magical Security for the last decade. There was little to critique; the man did know how to duel. But so did Percival.

          There were four of them left, all the rest sitting back with their pints and placing bets on who was going to come out on top. Percival knocked out the last of Malfoy’s cronies, and Theseus clapped him on the back in congratulations before dramatically dropping out of the competition. They hadn’t discussed this, but the redhead knew that his brother-in-law was itching to take a strip out of Malfoy’s pride. As much as he wanted to do it himself, to make sure the bastard knew that upsetting his sister was just _not done_ , he knew that his friend would be insufferable if Theseus took that satisfaction away from him.

          He sat back and watched as Percival squared up with Malfoy, the energy in the room crackling with intensity. Theseus knew that Percy was a powerful wizard; he’d stood back to back with him in the war and on the streets as an auror. They’d known each other since they were boys, but he had never felt the backlash of his cold rage before. The hair at the nape of his neck rose and a quick glance around the room showed a quiet crowd, everyone dead silent as they realized that this wasn’t your ordinary duel.

          Malfoy tossed his hair and posed, wand raised mockingly. “What, you’re here to avenge your lunatic of a wife? It’s a miracle you have the wherewithal to make it through to this point. Are you as mad as she is? That must be it.”

          The handkerchief dropped, and Percival shot off a purple hex that was narrowly deflected, and the game was on. Malfoy kept the commentary up for a while until he was winded by a stunner powerful enough to visibly crack his shield. Then it was a dance of dodging and ducking as the retired auror slowly upped the attack. He’d started easy and just kept getting faster and more vicious, leaving Malfoy hardly any room for counter attacks.

          There was a moment where the room seemed to collectively stop breathing, Malfoy having collapsed back onto the floor, hard. Percival stood over him, then moved to pin the other man, his wand inches from his nose. Theseus had gotten to his feet and was holding back the bouncer from interfering.

          “I want you to listen to me carefully, you piece of shit,” Percival said in a low, cold voice that was carefully modulated and frankly terrifying. “If I ever see you near my wife again, there will be nothing left of you but goddamn ashes. Are we clear?”

          There was a heavy pause where no one dared move, then Malfoy was nodding.

          “Open your mouth and say it. You will never approach Artemis Graves again, by accident or design. If you see her, you will turn on your heel and go the other way. Are we clear?”

          “Yes,” Malfoy’s voice was shaky and a little too high.

          “Are. We. Clear?”

          “Y-yes,” Malfoy tried again after swallowing hard. Whatever he saw in the dark pits of Percival’s eyes was making him tremble. “I will not approach her, by accident or design.”

          “Good. Now get the fuck out of my sight,” Percival growled, releasing him with a shove that made his head bounce on the hardwood. He turned his back and went toward the bar, the crowd moving aside with a speed that made Theseus proud. He noticed Malfoy raise his wand, and sent a simple _expelliarmus_ that shot it out of his hand, sending the wood skittering across the floor. Percy didn’t even turn to look, he just kept going to gather his winnings from the bookie, confident that Theseus quite literally had his back.

          “Not done, old boy,” Theseus chided. He turned to the barkeep and said, “He’s not to be let back in here.”

          “Not ta worry,” the old man chuffed. “Not ta worry, we don’t want the likes ‘a him around. Bad for business. No one wants ta drink or duel with a coward.”

 

*~*~*

          Five days later, they were on the train toward Scotland, having forgone the quicker, magical routes available for the experience of the scenery. Percival had booked them a sleeper car to themselves, with plenty of room and luxury to stretch out. Cree was having the time of his life, split between hanging out on his father’s shoulders, watching the passing wildlife, playing games with whoever he could wheedle into it, and running wild down in Art’s case.

          He had charmed an older couple right away, dimples flashing and mouth working overtime to ask in his round about way if they knew any games they could teach him because his mum and dad had taught him all they knew and he was bored. The wife of the pair looked over at Art, who was sitting with an open book near the windows, half reading and half staring out the window. She caught Percival’s eye and nodded at him before engaging the young one in a spirited card game that she said she had made up for her grandson, who was just a little older than Cree.

          After dinner and Cree was settled into his bunk with a watchful Dougal, Percival led his wife out into the back carriage for some air. They’d warded their temporary quarters and figured it was safe enough to slip away for a few moments alone. Getting out of London had done a good job of easing Art’s remaining unease, and she was nearly back to herself. There were moments when she was speaking to strangers that she resorted to shying away with a blush, but she was still attempting to engage.

          She curled up against Percival now, allowing him to stand behind her with his arms wrapped protectively around her middle. His hands, never to give up an opportunity to touch her growing belly, stretched across the bump of their child. He nuzzled the side of her face, inhaling deep the scent of her hair. She smiled and shivered, one hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. There was no doubt left in her mind that he loved her. He’d made sure of it.

          “I have something for you,” he murmured, and she laughed.

          “Percy! You’ve already spoiled me impossibly. You’ve got to stop before I become insufferable.”

          “There’s no such thing as spoiling your wife too much,” he came back. He turned her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “No, this is something really, really special that only you would love and appreciate.”

          He reached in his pocket and pulled a small red velvet pouch out. “Hold your palms out, sweets.”

          She cupped her hands out between them and gasped when he opened the pouch and very, very, gently rolled two eggs into her palms. “Oh, oh, Percy,” she breathed, bringing it up closer to her face and turning a little to the side to get a good look at the markings. “These are miniature peacock opaleyes! They’re incredibly rare, as they’d been bred as pets before they’d been banned. People really had no idea what they were in for with dragons, even with this size. They’re still dragons, they’re still carnivores, and they still need a certain set of environs to thrive. Humans really are stupid creatures. Where did you find them?”

          “Fontaine back at MACUSA told me of the illegal breeding racket they’d busted a few months ago that had stocks of these eggs and a few other crates of animals. During the crush of the raid, the case holding the eggs had been hit, and these were the only ones to survive. Everything else has already been rehomed into the sanctuary we established before we left.”

          “Oh, darling,” Art’s eyes were glistening as she looked from the precious eggs up to his face. “Thank you. They don’t grow much more than ten inches in height and usually top weight at twelve pounds; about the same dimensions as a well-fed housecat.”

          What he didn’t tell her was that he’d used the money he had won from the dueling competition to pay for Fontaine himself to deliver the eggs and pay for the registration fee with the British ministry. Theseus had helped with the paperwork, and Seraphina had done her part with a letter of request for one Artemis Graves to be the caretaker of the eggs and resulting dragons. It was all just for show, no one would have ever known that Art had them, but it made it more of a gift to know that in case of problems, she was officially their legal keeper. It paid to know the right people, Percy thought a bit smugly as he watched the glow in his wife’s eyes and cheeks as she ran a fingertip tenderly over the eggs.

          “We need to keep them warm, so I’ll make a nest for them close to the fireplace. You said that Fontaine had rescued the eggs a few months ago? Do you have a firm date? We need to calculate when these beauties will hatch, as it’s imperative for all three of us to be there when they present. Whoever they see when they first open their eyes is considered their parent/clutchmates. It forms a bond that is near to unbreakable. That’s where a lot of wizards failed; the breeders hadn’t figured it out and had given them off to new ‘owners’ that hadn’t developed that bond. The poor things hadn’t reacted well, some had wasted away, and some became destructive.”

          “I have all their papers,” Percival told her, amusement and a bit of pride in his tone. “These are legally and permanently yours. I made sure to get all of the information off the reports from the raid, including the paperwork the breeders had kept.”

          “Oh, Percy,” Art breathed and lifted her face to him, “Thank you.”

          “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He cupped her chin and kissed her. “I love you. You know that, right? You’re the light of my life and I live for your happiness.”

          Her eyes sparkled with tears and she allowed him to draw her back in, the eggs cradled securely between their chests. “What did I ever do to deserve you,” she asked in a wobbling whisper.

          “I ask myself that over and over and over again,” Percival chuckled. “I still haven’t come up with a good answer.”

 

*~*~*

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I love it when stories kinda evolve as we go :D Seriously, the movie got me to thinking on where I wanted to go with this. It's still not cannon, by a long shot, but Grindlewald's escape was too good to pass up. So here we are. It's given me a direction in which to hurtle and the creative juices are flowing again, which means very good things. Love you all, and I hope you like it. Drop a line and tell me how it flows. Cheers!!

*~*~*

          Artemis was in her study in their little cottage outside of Hogsmeade when Theseus came with the news of Grindlewald’s escape. Papers were lying in semi-organized chaos all around her desk, and Theseus noted that a contingent of his sister’s creatures were milling about, more than happy to curl up on windowsills and bookshelves while their mum scribbled away at her notes for a follow up to her first book.

          A glint of shiny red caught his eye and he momentarily forgot the grim reason for his visit. The dragon hatchling was curled up in the crook of Art’s neck, its tiny snout pressed into her skin as it rested. It was possibly the size of the palm of his hand, a perfect miniature of the opaleyes he’d met the last time he’d visited Roman at the sanctuary. The iridescent scales glittered as his sister carefully turned to look at him, one eyebrow raising as he just stood there, hovering in the doorway.

          “Is Percy anywhere nearby,” he asked, trying to keep a bit of the doom out of his voice, and failing miserably if the sudden worry in Art’s face was anything to go by. He didn’t elaborate, afraid of what might come out of it if he tried. She still had nightmares about what happened in New York, even almost two years past.

         Her hand had a bit of a shake when it pressed against the now obvious swell of her belly. At a little over six months, she still wasn’t where the midwife wanted her to be on weight, only having gained about ten pounds total; baby and all. All the scans had come back healthy, they both were doing fine. She just wasn’t… she was too delicate.

          A fission of fear gripped him then at the thought of how vulnerable Art really was in this condition. He didn’t doubt her ability to defend herself if she needed to, but magic use was limited in the later months of pregnancy; nothing too strenuous, and the right hex aimed just the right way would mean devastation.

          Art carefully transferred the hatchling from her shoulder to a little cloth nest she’d set up on a corner of her desk with charmed warming rocks. Then she stood and moved toward the door, ushering him down the hall, into the kitchen, and into a chair, not saying a word as she waved her wand toward the kettle to put it into the fire. When she moved to prepare the cups for tea, Theseus caught her hand and stopped her.

          “I’m sorry, Art.” He sounded shattered. Frightened and sad and angry all at the same time. Artemis pulled a chair over so that she could sit facing him, her grip on his hand almost too tight. “We… I tried to keep him in MACUSA custody until I could personally be on the task force, but I was railroaded into standing back. They… there were people in on the job, bad people who had turned dark and helped.”

          With every word he spoke, Artemis’s face grew paler. She looked like she was going to throw up, eyes glittering with horrified tears. He didn’t even need to say the man’s name; she knew. He figured she’d probably known the moment she’d seen his face. The front door opened and closed, the sound of it making her jolt and jerk her hand out of his. She shoved up out of her chair and bolted for the hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her before Percival had a chance to get out of the foyer.

          “Art?” Percival froze when he saw Theseus, the surprised greeting getting stuck at the dark expression on his brother-in-law’s face. “What happened?”

          “Gellert Grindlewald has escaped custody and is now an international fugitive.” Theseus sounded like he was reciting off an inter-departmental memo, voice flat and angry. He looked for a moment like he was going to lose his cool, face gaining color now that he was faced with Percival; a peer and a friend on equal footing. “I told them that we should have had more of a contingent, more of a presence with the transfer. They wouldn’t let me in on the detail, giving the bloody excuse that I’m too close to the situation. Obviously, there was a reason I was excluded, and it’s not because they were afraid I would kill him just to be done with it.”

          Percival’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he processed what he was being told. He hadn’t even been aware of a transfer. Seraphina had kept him out of the loop, despite near biweekly owls and monthly firecalls. She had discussed everything else, going as far as to ask him for advice on training and some of their more difficult cases. Not once had his friend and former boss said anything about Grindlewald being transferred to British custody. Just last week, he had asked how the internal investigation was going in the aftermath of what happened in their city. She had blatantly lied and withheld key information.

          There was the sound of a crash from the bathroom, breaking him out of his furious thoughts. He turned on his heel and went to see to his wife. The knock on the bathroom door was deceptively gentle as he shoved back the rioting emotions, knowing it wouldn’t help at all. There was another thud, and a muffled curse. He tried the knob, unsurprised to find it locked.

          “Art, honey, it’s me. You okay in there?”

          “No.” The simple answer was so packed with emotion, Percival rested his forehead against the door.

          “Can I come in?”

          “No.”

          He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, blowing it out noiselessly. “Do you want me to bring your case?”

          “Yes, please.”

          He stood for another long moment before going to retrieve the old, battered case out of their bedroom. He couldn’t help but be relieved that Cree was spending time with his Auntie Queenie in London, able to avoid the immediate emotional fallout of the devastating news. They’d be cutting his visit short, though. They were all targets, their son especially, and Percival would be damned if he didn’t take every precaution to keep them safe.

          A slim arm slipped out of the crack in the door when he knocked lightly on it and snatched the case, disappearing back almost as fast as it appeared. The door clicked shut again, but the lock didn’t engage. Percival knew that she was trusting him to give her a bit of space, and her creatures to alert him if he was needed. He stood for a minute in the hallway, just staring at the closed door before walking back into the kitchen. Plans needed to be made.

          The first words out of his mouth were, “Is there a valid reason I was left out of the loop? Apparently, you all have been working to keep this transfer business away from me.”

          Theseus met his stare with one of his own, knowing he didn’t have a good answer. He tried anyway, “My orders were to keep it to my department only.”

          “Since when has that been a priority? You follow orders when it suits you, and this is the one you decide to hold back on?”

          “I know you’re angry,” Theseus started, but was interrupted when Percival slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the used teacup Art had left behind.

          “Angry doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it. How can I protect my family if I don’t know the important fucking details,” Percival snarled, “What is _your_ reasoning for hindering that ability?”

          “I didn’t want Art to worry,” Theseus said finally, looking away from his friend’s righteous fury. “With her pregnancy, I didn’t want to stress her unnecessarily, and I know you wouldn’t be able to keep it quiet. I was going to wait until it was over and done with, then let you in.”

          There was a dark and heavy silence between the two men before Theseus’s shoulders slumped and he said, “I’m sorry, Percy. I should have said something. We could have worked together to make sure this didn’t happen. I was an idiot, and I know it. You have every right to be angry with me.”

          Percival’s nostrils flared, and he jerked back upright, shoving a hand through his hair as he turned his back on his oldest friend, fighting the urge to scream. When he felt like he could speak normally, he said, “We have to go get Cree and speak with Tina, Queenie, and Jacob. I have a meeting with Dumbledore at the end of the week, I think it would be good to expedite that and speak with him sooner. We have to come up with a protection detail.”

          “What are you thinking?”

          “Hogwarts is one of the safest places I can think of, and Art has already received a job offer for the Care of Magical Creatures class. She turned it down, sent the letter off last week. It might be good to reconsider.”

          “I’m not sure if she’ll go for it,” Theseus told him, “But that’s a brilliant idea. The wards on the school are near unbreakable.”

          “I’ll talk with her.” Percival rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head. “Mercy Lewis, Theseus. Why the fuck can’t we just live in peace?”

          Theseus didn’t know how to answer him, so he just stayed silent. 

*~*~*

          It was nearly two hours before Percival finished with Theseus and ventured down into his wife’s inner sanctuary, cradling the dragon hatchling against his collarbone. She had awakened halfway through the discussions and started chirping, calling for her mum. Percival had gone and retrieved her, giving a nuzzle when the little one reached for it. Dried crickets from a handy jar did well for a snack, and Stella had settled in with her da for another snooze in his warm jacket pocket. Of the two hatchlings, Stella was the more social one, her brother, Octavian, being more of a loner. He was content to stay in their nest near Dougal and Horace, where Stella wasn’t satisfied unless she was near one of her humans.

          Dougal, true to form, doted on the tiny dragon, keeping a vigilant eye on ‘his’ baby. The occamies weren’t all that far away either, the mama of the bunch taking to Octo, as they’d nicknamed the tiny male, feeding him as she did her own babies. Art thought it was the most beautiful thing, that cross-species care that wasn’t quite as rare in the wild as you would think.

          Percival stopped by the nest and gave Stella another quick nuzzle before placing her in with her brother, who immediately curled up around her with a little, inquisitive chirp. Dougal came around the corner then, walking in from the direction of the nundu habitat, giving away Art’s location. Of course, the demiguise wouldn’t leave her side when she was upset. He eyeballed Percival solemnly for a second, then took his hand.

          Art was sitting against the boulders in the Sahara type landscape, Aggie sprawled out around her, sitting guard as only a massive feline could. Percival approached slowly and deliberately, knowing that Aggie wouldn’t attack him, but knowing it was important to tread carefully when Art was upset. The nundu had accepted him as tribe, but at a low third below Artemis and Cree. No one was coming near the magizoologist unless she explicitly said it was okay.

          Horace was nestled in Art’s lap, protectively lying across the baby bump. The niffler had surprised them with this behavior once Art started showing, though thinking about it, it made sense. As much of a hyper-active nuisance as he could be, the creature was unendingly loyal and could be vicious when his mum was threatened. He knew there was a baby growing, and Art speculated that Horace could feel the magical core developing in her womb, just like a good number of her other rescues could.

          It made Percy feel marginally better knowing that his wife wasn’t without protection. Marginally, because he was still utterly terrified.

          “May I come sit with you,” he asked, and she didn’t look at him when she nodded.

          He took a seat next to her, speaking to Aggie gently when the feline grumbled lightly in a half-greeting-half warning. Waiting until Artemis leaned into his side, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to him. He kissed the top of her head, resting his hand over her cheek briefly. He waited for her to speak, leaving the air quiet for a couple more minutes.

          “Did you know he was being transferred?” Art’s voice was very soft, very deliberate.

          “I didn’t,” he answered, still a bit angry. “The ministry forbid Theseus from speaking of it outside of his office, and your brother didn’t want to stress you unnecessarily. He knew that I wouldn’t be able to keep it from you, so he kept it from me as well. I’m pretty furious over the whole thing. He wasn’t assigned to the detail.”

          “Tina knew about it too, didn’t she?” There was a hint of betrayal in Artemis’s tone. “She’s a part of Theseus’s aurors, in the inner circle. She had to of known.”

          “I asked him about that, and he said that all of the aurors had been magically bound to secrecy. No matter how much she may have wanted to tell us, she couldn’t without consequences.”

          She was silent for a long while, her head resting on his chest. When she spoke again, he was relieved when she echoed his own thoughts. “It appears as if I should amend my refusal to Hogwarts, then. I can’t take chances like I used to, and Hogwarts is the safest place I can think of. I never wanted to go back, but the living quarters are set back a ways from the castle, and I’m sure they can make use of you somehow.”

          “I’m going to be taking a hand in the-,” Percival started, but Art interrupted him by pulling away abruptly. She stared at him, wide-eyed and horrified.

          “Percy, no,” she whispered, and he could feel her shaking. “No, I can’t have you in his line of fire. Please, I- I can’t… I couldn’t…. please.”

          “Shh,” Percival murmured, gathering her back close. “It’s all right, we’ll talk about it more later. I won’t be working the front lines, darling. Let’s talk with Dumbledore before we get too far ahead, okay?”

          She knew he was just telling her what she wanted to hear for the moment, but she was suddenly exhausted. The morning had been much more eventful than she’d anticipated. “I need to lie down,” she murmured. “But we need to go get Cree. I don’t want him away from us.”

          “Theseus is on his way to get him now. He’ll be back with us in about an hour.”

          “Come lay with me for a little while,” she asked, softly as if she expected him to scoff at her. Resting at a time like this felt like a terrible idea. There were so many things to do, to prepare for. She needed to send off letters and pack and see to her creatures. Her mind was on hyper-drive, but her body was telling her that what she really needed was to lie still for a bit.

          “Of course, sweetheart.” Percival guided her to her feet after nudging the niffler off her lap. He knew exactly what she needed, and after removing their shoes and outer layers, he stroked her hair until she fell asleep curled up with her head on his shoulder, belly resting between them and his other arm protectively slung over her side.

 

*~*~*

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves* Hi, guys! I'm a bit late to do the Christmas thing, but I figured better late than never, so we get all this nearly a month after the fact. ;) I considered just skipping over it, but I was looking forward to some holiday fluff, so... *shrug* This deals with a bit of anxiety and holiday depression, so be warned. It's not too heavy, and it comes to a sweet conclusion. Love you all, and THANK YOU for sticking with me despite the weird posting schedule.

*~*~*

          Artemis had never really felt an affinity for the Christmas holidays, always feeling a bit odd about the festivities and how everyone seemed to go overboard on showing absurd amounts of ‘cheer’ while simultaneously going into a competitiveness that was sometimes not-so-cleverly disguised as ‘good-will’ and ‘giving’. It had always felt like a farce to her. She figured there may have been a time when she was a child where it wasn’t so overwhelming.

          Her husband, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the Yule spirit, especially now that they were settled into their quarters at Hogwarts. The moment the castle was decorated, his face split into a magnificent smile that lit his dark eyes and made her heart flutter. She’d tried to go under the mistletoe with him without pausing, and he’d stopped her- right in front of all their colleagues and a few lucky students—and drew her back for a long, sweet kiss that had left her breathless. When she’d stared at him like he’d lost his mind, he’d pointed a finger upwards to where a mischievous imp had placed the greenery.

          Their cottage had been decorated within an inch of its life, and while she sighed at it at first, the look on Cree’s face as he saw their Christmas tree was worth it. In the two years they’d been a family, they’d been traveling during the holidays, so this was his first time with his own tree. And what a magnificent tree it was. Percival had brought one in while she was supervising detentions one night. He and Cree had decorated it, charming lights, baubles of every color, shape, and size, and garland.

          Her son was enamored with the entire holiday, loudly exclaiming, “Happy Christmas!” whenever he greeted anyone. The sadness that hit her heart at the thought of all the holidays his former life had lacked had made her cry. Hormones were going crazy, and it was making her feel unbalanced and prickly. She was trying to keep it to herself, not wanting to ruin the joy.

          Percival knew. Bless his sharp eyes, he knew when something was wrong. He brought her flowers, a bright bouquet of creature-friendly blooms wrapped in festive ribbon, and a box of the crisps she’d been craving. One look, and she’d turned her back and burst into sobs. He’d stepped in and wrapped her up in his arms, turning her back around so that she could bury her face in his neck. Gathering her up, he’d moved them to the sofa where he’d cradled her while she cried.

          When she calmed, he asked softly, “Are you ready to tell me what’s wrong, honey?”

          She sucked in a shuddering breath and said, “I don’t know. I- I’m trying, but I- I’ve never really been… been into the holidays. Th-this year, seeing you and Cree enjoying yourselves so much has made it lovely, but I don’t… I don’t think I’ve been fair.”

          “What do you mean? You’ve been wonderful. You and Cree even made cookies. How is that not being fair?”

          “I… I just don’t want to be a disappointment. I- I don’t really enjoy Christmas, and I don’t want to hamper any of the joy you two feel.”

          “Baby, listen, you’re not. Do you see Cree any less excited for the season? Am I grumpier than normal? Do either of us seem impatient with you, or disappointed?” Percival cupped her chin and lifted her face to look at him. The tender look in his eyes made her tear up again, and he rubbed his thumb across her trembling lip. “We both love you, and I don’t think anything aside from an act of the gods could destroy our son’s enthusiasm.”

          Art chuckled wetly and rolled her eyes, “I don’t believe even that could dampen his enthusiasm.”

          “See? It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s okay if this is difficult for you. You’re still doing the best you can, and Cree and I are enjoying the holiday enough for all of us.” He nuzzled the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

          “Just this,” Art murmured, feeling another wave of tears. “Ho-hold me when I-I’m weepy.”

          “Is that it? I can do that anytime, anywhere.”

          “I love you.”

          “I couldn’t exist without you, darling.”

          Art buried her face in his neck and just let herself be for a few moments.

*~*~*

          Christmas morning brought squeals of joy and a bouncing five-year-old boy. “Mama! Mama! Da!” The excited shouts came from the living area of their cottage as Cree discovered all the brightly colored gifts piled up under their tree. They’d gone with Percival’s family tradition instead of the British method of having their packages appear on the end of their bed. It was much more effective, and to be honest, there were far too many parcels to fit on their little one’s small bed.

          Artemis laughed when Cree excitedly climbed up on their bed and bounced between them, his curls wild and his face glowing with happiness. “Mama! It’s so pretty! You’ve gotta come see! Da, you were right! The faeries _did_ come!”

          “I told you, buddy,” Percival said sleepily, but the pleased note was still audible. They had also forgone the Santa Claus myth, seeing as it was a mostly muggle tradition and faeries were very real, and this was a good way for them to educate their son on fae etiquette. The gifts of milk and honey had been left out, along with a plate of cookies and boiled sweets, all of which were gone with small, handmade presents left in their place.

           “Mama, are you coming?” Cree climbed gently over her to pat her cheek with his warm little hand. Artemis smiled at him and grabbed him up suddenly, pulling him into the pile of blankets between her and Percival. She covered his face with kisses and tickled his belly to make him burst out into wild giggles.

          “Of course,” Artemis chuckled, “We’ve got to see what the faeries brought, don’t we? And your aunts and uncles are coming later for dinner.”

          “Yay!” Cree squirmed until she let him go, but instead of rushing off, he threw his arms around her for one last embrace. He then scrambled down off the bed and out into the main living area.

          Percival locked eyes with his wife and lifted her face to his briefly before they followed their son out into the festive morning.

          Later, sitting in front of the fire with her friends and family gathered around, Artemis realized that she really didn’t mind Christmas as much as she had before. Cree was asleep against Theseus’s chest, tuckered out from a day of playing with his new toy broom and chasing after a slowed snitch with his father and uncles. Queenie was curled up next to Jacob on the expanded armchair near the fireplace, and Tina was cross-legged on the rug right in front of the fire, idly staring into the flames. They were all quietly talking, Artemis just listening to the words flow around her from her place resting against her husband.

          His arm was around her shoulders, her head on his chest, and his other hand spanning the expanse of her belly. She had never felt so safe and loved as she did right in that moment.

*~*~*

          Albus Dumbledore watched from the back of the classroom as his former student enraptured her students. It had taken a couple weeks for them to start taking her seriously, what with her soft spoken, nervous start. There had been stammering and a bit of mumbling the first few classes, but as Artemis warmed up to the process of informing and educating young minds on the wonders of the world of magical creatures, it had gotten a lot smoother. It helped that she was pretty as a picture and oblivious to her effect on those around her.

          He smiled as the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins sidled up to the long tables Artemis had set up to house a temporary terrarium built for the newborn acromantulas. There were eight of the magical spiders, all about the same size as his hand. He listened as she explained all about them, her voice carrying a passionate note that he couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection for.

          “These little ones are only about a week old, having hatched from a much larger pod. Muggles call them egg-sacs, but I prefer pods for the acromantulas because of the way they are bunched. It’s not just a membrane encasing the delicate eggs, but a very distinct, almost armor-like web. There’s usually fewer eggs per pod than your mundane spiders; about ten per pod, rather than the hundreds that are in mundane spider sacs, I believe mostly due to size.”

          A Slytherin girl with long golden hair and a pursed mouth stayed back, a look of controlled horror in her eyes. Artemis noticed and addressed her kindly, “Miss Black, the glass is shatter-proof, and I promise I won’t force you to touch them. Most people find them unsettling, though the poison they carry at this stage is only a mild paralytic and not toxic.”

          “But they _are_ poisonous,” the same Slytherin asked in a dubious tone, her eyebrows disappearing into her bangs.

          “Well, yes,” Artemis answered, and Albus was amused to see that she was trying to hide a smile. “Adult acromantulas are highly poisonous, with venom that can liquify an adult human body within a twenty-four-hour period.”

          There was a sudden wave of students stepping back away from the terrarium almost in unison. Artemis continued, gently reaching into the glass to extend her fingers to one of the baby spiders, “However, these types of spiders aren’t typically found in the same places as their mundane counterparts. You won’t be finding a full grown acromantula in the garden shed or in your shoes. They stay to the forests and swamps where it’s easier to hide and prey is plentiful. We already covered it in the reading homework I gave you Tuesday, but can you tell us how large an adult acromantula can get, Mr. Hysmith?”

          A short, gangly boy with frizzled sandy hair and an untidy uniform looked at her, wide-eyed as he desperately searched for the information she was asking for. “Um… very, very big?”

          “Yes, very big is pretty accurate, but I think you may need to go back over the reading some more. Three points from Gryffindor. Who knows the answer?”

          A few hands came up, and Artemis called on a tall, black-haired girl with glasses who had shyly raised her hand, as if she was terrified to be called out. “Miss Ackers?”

          “Four to five feet?” Her voice was timid, but she cleared her throat at Artemis’s encouraging smile, “And up to thirty pounds.”

          “Well done, Miss Ackers. Eight points to Gryffindor. There are cases of adults getting as large as fifty pounds, but those are usually very old.” She held up the juvenile spider that had nestled in her palm, its legs curled up to keep inside the parameters of her fingers. “Now, who can tell me what a group of acromantulas are called?”

          Albus stepped back and gently closed the classroom door behind him, leaving her to her lesson. He felt a rush of satisfaction that he’d been proven right about her being an excellent teacher. Headmaster Dippett hadn’t been as enthusiastic about her, remembering the disaster that had been her time at Hogwarts. The success of her book and the glowing recommendations from Albus and her supervisor at the ministry had spurred him to relent and send out the invitation. They’d made a good choice.

          His smile faded as he moved toward his own office, if only there had been better circumstances to her acceptance of the position. Grindlewald was free, reports of his comings and goings coming back at a steady rate from different sources. Their spies never lasted long; Gellert always had been good at catching out shady dealings. He stood near the window and looked out over the grounds.

          His eyes caught a dark clad figure moving across toward the Quidditch pitch and he opened the window, leaning out to get a better look. Most of the other professors would be in class, with few notable exceptions. He had a free period, as did their Divinations professor, Cassandra, and their new Defense instructor, Mr. Graves. Ah. Albus recognized the cut of the black coat now, and the sweep of graying black hair. Curiously, the other man was carrying a broom with him.

          Intrigued, Albus gently closed the window and went for his own cloak and gloves. He’d been meaning to spend a little more time getting to know the mysterious former director of magical security. The other man was curiously hard to read, outside his protective streak involving his wife and son, leaving him only with what Albus had gleaned from public knowledge and the few meetings they’d had involving Gellert’s escape.

          He’d been waiting for a chance to sit and speak with his former pupil’s husband alone, to get his measure. What better time than now?

*~*~*

 


End file.
